Snickerdoodles
by PersephoneVerne
Summary: When Sara goes to Ava's apartment to make amends after their fight, she finds that the place is in disarray, and Ava has been kidnapped. With the Legends' help, she rescues Ava from Neron and saves her from purgatory... but what happened to Ava in the two weeks she was gone? And how does Sara help her once the two are reunited in the waking world? **Avalance, hurt/comfort**
1. Chapter 1: Whistle on the Wind

Chapter 1: Whistle on the Wind

_\- Then -_

The night was unseasonably cold - insultingly so, or so it seemed to Ava as she stormed out the doors of the Time Bureau. _Leave of absence? Who the hell is he to strongly suggest that I take a leave of absence?_ Her thoughts were a tornado, all force and no direction. Disorganized, destructive - everything she hated to be, a state of mind she worked so hard to avoid. Control, she liked control, but now her stomach felt queasy as she felt the threads of that control, which she stitched into her life so carefully, fraying at the edges. And now the cold - salt to her proverbial wounds.

All force, no direction: her mind rocketed from thought to thought, each one feeling less like a contemplation and more like a head-on collision.

_ \- Sara, and the look on her face when Ava had told her to go._

\- _Hank, rising from the chair behind his desk with all the physical authority of a high-school principal and all the professional authority to rip away the career she had so tirelessly constructed for herself, that she devoted herself to, that she loved. Hank cutting her off as she rose, too - tired of his lectures about regulations and how severely she'd broken them, or more pressingly, how the Legends had broken them - and she tried to remind him how much the Legends did for the Bureau, who invaluable they were, how their motivations to save Konane had been well-intentioned, even if their methods had been less than ideal. _

She argued with herself as she walked to her car. _I said to him everything I should have said to Sara. God, why couldn't I have just told her those things, instead of taking his side?_ The sidewalk was less crowded than usual; Hank had kept her late, lecturing on and on about the "integrity of the mission" and the "sanctity of their work."

_I took his side when arguing with Sara because I was doing my job - why couldn't she see that I'm doing the best I can? I'm not responsible for Hank's actions? Even if his actions are reprehensible… ugh._ Ava rubbed her temples and quickened her stride, head throbbing, seemingly from the pressure of all the tension within. _Hurting magical creatures? What the hell, Hank?_ Faster, she walked, and faster, the torrent of thoughts came.

\- _A thorn against her tongue as Sara plucked a rose from a nearby bouquet and placed it between her teeth, an admittedly smooth - but utterly infuriating - attempt to stop Ava's arguments as they spun and dipped and twirled each other across the dance floor. _

\- _Finally letting her cool facade crack, letting some emotion through the professional exterior, letting her voice raise in volume until it matched his, and she was looking Hank in the eye and not backing down, until he stepped back, paused, and then, quietly, told her that he "highly recommended she take a leave of absence," and that she should "gather what she needs from her desk for a week."_ Why? _"It seems to me like you need some time to sort out your priorities."_

In the quiet of the night, odd sounds felt amplified: her own heavy, solid footfalls on the pavement as she crossed to the parking lot; a rustle of wind through the trees that lined the walkway, sending a chill spidering up her spine. Arriving at the parking lot, Ava began navigating towards her car, which she had no trouble locating, since the lot was nearly empty. _God, what was the hour?_ The irony of the Director of the Time Bureau not knowing the time was not lost on her as she glanced at her wrist for an answer: 11:17. _Already?_ A wave of dizziness swept over her suddenly, and she reached an arm out, her hand finding the pole of a street light on the grass island halfway through the lot. It flickered as she leaned against it.

_When did I last eat?_ Ava wondered, at first idly, then more seriously as her brain didn't immediately supply her with a response. _Shit, did I eat today?_ She stood there, pausing, re-calibrating, walking back through her day and not reaching a meal until she recalled breakfast. _If you could call it that._ A granola bar and a banana? Was that really all? As if to punctuate her realization, her stomach growled, presumably in protest to its seeming abandonment, and for the first time that day, Ava allowed herself to fully check in with her body.

Head: like a dam just as the floodgates began to crack. Stomach: empty. Her muscles felt sore and kind of tight, likely a combination of stress and fatigue. Feet: about to swell out of her shoes. _One of these days I'll have to draft an amendment to the dress code - professionalism is one thing, but if I'm going to be doing as much cardio in these shoes as I have been recently, what with saving the timeline and all that, I think some sneakers would be well within my rights to demand._ Neck: stiff. Legs: heavy, wooden, rusted. Heart…

_Hollow._ Unbidden, unwanted, a knot of emotion rose in her throat, but she swallowed it down. Part of her wanted so badly to call Sara, to go home to her, with her, to melt into her arms and let that feeling of security carry her into tomorrow, when she could sort out everything that was going on in an orderly manner. But then, dammit, Sara was one of the issues right now, and… Ava sighed, slowly. She didn't want to still be mad, but for some reason, she was, the anger still hot in her veins, so strong that it brought a little tremor to her fingers.

Was that from anger at Sara, though? Or the rest of it? Or just the hunger?

_ Probably all of the above. _

_ Time. I need time. And food. What do I have left in my fridge?_ Her temples throbbed again; even the effort of thinking that far ahead seemed too great, at the moment. _Guess I'll see when I get there_.

The street lamp flickered again, and Ava shivered, suddenly aware that she was alone in the Time Bureau parking lot at nearly half past eleven at night. Though she had a habit of pushing work hours late, that seemed to be a trend among upper-level Bureau employees, and she had grown accustomed to walking out with the same elevator group, nodding to the same pedestrians on the walkway. Bordering on midnight was pushing it, though, even for chronic Bureau over-achievers. Now the lot was desolate, and the night was dark. Ava felt her heartbeat quicken, just a flutter, and she whipped her head around, scanning the lot and its edges, shrouded in the shadows of the row of trees lining the walkway from the Bureau building and the looming edifices of Washington DC. The city - at least this district, full of government offices - never fully fell asleep, packed with people whose job it was to be awake so the remainder of the country could slumber peacefully. Still, this corner of it seemed to be, for the moment, at rest; she saw no one from her vantage point in the middle of the lot, not in any direction.

Ava released her grip on the street lamp; it had been tighter than she'd thought, and she watched the color return to her knuckles, curling and uncurling her fingers as she crossed the final distance to her car. A siren sounded in the distance; somebody blared a horn. Somewhere on another street, someone was whistling, and the tune carried to her ears in a frigid wind that blew her hair off to one side and turned up the collar of her coat.

She reached her car - finally - and fumbled with the keys, digging them from her pocket, finding the unlock button, and clambering in. Shutting the door felt like closing the world out; the ambient sounds of the night were abruptly cut off. _If only it were that simple. If only I could close a door, lock a file cabinet, store all of my anxieties neatly away_.

But that was the thing about anxieties, wasn't it? They weren't neat, they were unruly, and persistent, and if you didn't turn to address them when they tapped on your shoulder, they grew claws and tried more insistently to win attention.

Ava turned the key, and the engine came to life. As backed out of her spot and navigated out of the lot, the silence of the car's interior suddenly felt stifling, and she cracked the window, despite the chill, breathing in the icy air. The sounds of the night were more muted, with the window glass still mostly up between her and the rest of the world, but even as she drove and her vehicle carried her away from the Time Bureau premises, a song lingered on the wind.

_ What is that song?_ The tune seemed to lodge in her mind and stick there, like a fly in amber. The name came to her as she turned out onto a road with some actual signs of life on it, cars waiting at a traffic light, a lone cyclist zipping along the roadside.

_ Pop Goes the Weasel?_ Ava groaned aloud, waiting for the light to change. _Perfect. Just what I need. The one song that it notoriously difficult to get out of your head._ At long last, the light turned green. As much as she wanted to floor it until she reached her door, it appeared that the person ahead of her was in no such hurry; so, Ava inched down the road, alone with her thoughts and the sliver of cold air slipping through her window, the damn song stuck in her head on a loop. It was almost as if she could still hear the whistling, even as she continued down the road towards home.


	2. Chapter 2: Last Meal

**Thanks for reading - I'd love to hear your thoughts! Best, -PV  
**

Chapter 2: Last Meal

_\- Then -_

Ava didn't bother to flick the hall light switch as she shut her front door behind her. The door felt heavy and made a solid thud as she closed it, and she leaned back against it briefly as she gently tossed her work bag to the side by the umbrella stand, head pressing back against the wood, everything about tonight feeling somehow so final and so uncertain all at once. She was at a pivoting point, she'd realized on the drive home: with her job, sure, but most importantly - most pressingly - with Sara. The weight of that knowledge, or rather the lack of knowledge, the not knowing how this was going to work out... it made her chest feel tight, like she couldn't quite get enough air in her lungs no matter how hard she tried.

_Food._ It was the one thought that kept surfacing in her mind that wasn't tied to the chaos of the rest of her life, and now she clung to it, seizing on the distraction. This was something she could address; this was one thing she could definitively cross off her list. _Control. I'll take it where I can_.

Ava navigated the mostly-dark hallway by muscle memory, dropping her keys in a little bowl on a side table, whose only other decoration happened to be a photograph of her and Sara, laughing faces framed so they were the first thing anyone saw when coming through the door. Normally the picture made her smile, but tonight, as a moonbeam from the textured glass alongside the door struck the frozen scene, it just brought a painful squeezing sensation to her heart. Ava reached a hand out to - what? To turn it facedown? Her fingers brushed the edge of the frame, then wandered down, grazing the glass that covered the photograph, the face of the woman who wasn't here now, who'd made her blood boil earlier… who she couldn't get out of her head. Ava let her hand fall, let the frame stand, and made her way to the kitchen.

She tugged the fridge door open, and the lights inside blinded her for a second, sending another lance of pain through her skull. The headache hadn't improved on the drive home; in fact, it seemed to have grown worse, and the situation wasn't helped by that god-damn song that she couldn't seem to shake. Normally, a song got stuck in her head because she couldn't remember all the lyrics, so if she just looked them up and ran through it, the annoyance would fade away, but who knew all the words to 'Pop Goes the Weasel?'

_I suppose that's the kind of thing people learn as kids,_ Ava thought wryly. _I'll add it to the list of things I missed out on, by being a clone._

Her vision swam, and she took a second to focus on what she had in the fridge. Clearly it had been some time since she went grocery shopping. Her search was met with a half-filled carton of milk, a tupperware with a toss-salad she'd made the other day, a nearly-empty bag of shredded mozzarella cheese, and an aluminum-foil-covered dish with leftover lasagna. It wasn't a hard decision, and three minutes later she found herself staring at a rotating plate of lasagna as it re-heated in the microwave. As the timer counted down, she considered pouring herself a glass of wine, but another throb of her head made her scrap the idea. The microwave sounded and she reached in, then recoiled with a hiss as she snatched her hand away from the hot edge of the plate. _Just what I need, a burnt hand,_ she thought. _What a fitting end to the day_. She flipped the kitchen light switch on and she examined the skin, but aside from some slight redness, it seemed okay.

Ava ran her hand under cold water for a moment, then poured herself a glass of it and downed half of it in one swallow. She grabbed the bowl with an oven mitt, along with a fork from the dishwasher she'd meant to unload this morning, and practically collapsed into her chair at the kitchen counter. The first bite nearly burned her tongue, but the effect of finally getting some sustenance in her body was instantaneous, and she ate ravenously.

About halfway through her meal, Ava paused, feeling a little more rejuvenated for the first time all evening. Her mind still felt full, but not quite at the spill-over point anymore. _Amazing what a little food can do._ Struck with inspiration, she went to get her work bag from where she'd tossed it by the front door. Returning to her chair by the counter, she rummaged through it until she found a pen and a spiral notepad with yellow paper. Alternating between shoveling forkfuls of lasagna into her mouth and scribbling on the notepad, she set about making a list.

Ava liked lists. They were neat, they were orderly, they were excellent organization strategies, and they offered the chance to keep track of achievements, even minor ones, by crossing out items that had been taken care of. And for right now, when everything else going on in her life felt so _large_, so difficult to tackle - well, here was a way for her to start reclaiming control.

The first bullet point seemed to write itself, and once her pen had stopped moving, she stared at it, letting the words on the page sink in, in a way she hadn't allowed herself to process the thought earlier. Item number one on her list: "Apologize to Sara."

In her head, Ava went back to their fight earlier in the evening, how angry she'd been with Sara about putting her in a hard situation at work, but more importantly, how hurt she'd been that Sara hadn't told her the plan, and what she knew about Konane in the first place. _I was angry, more than anything, that she left me out of that,_ Ava realized as she examined her own feelings with the clearest mind she'd had in hours. She and Sara were supposed to be a team, to have each other's backs, to be on the same side, but it was hard to do that when Sara went behind her back. And coming into her office, offering homemade snickerdoodles and meeting her with that face, apologetic but not for the right reasons, if only Sara had just talked to her instead of talking at her and expecting Ava to immediately jump to her side, without considering the other dynamics to the situation, to their situation… _And me, what was I thinking? I supported Hank's side out of instinct, not because I agree with him or his actions, not at all, but because Sara and I just felt so separate in that moment and I didn't feel like I had anywhere else to go, but god, the things I said, I didn't mean them, it came out all wrong…_

Ava sighed and rubbed her temples, the lasagna plate scraped empty and pushed to the side. _This isn't going to solve itself tonight,_ she reasoned, and besides, she knew that if she didn't turn her attention to something else, she'd waste away hours in this rabbit hole. _I need to talk to her,_ Ava resolved. _That's how adults solve problems, that's how we work through things with people we love: we listen and we learn and we move forward together._ However, none of that was going to happen tonight - _or tomorrow, even,_ Ava thought. _I think we both need a little time, for this one. Time and a little space._ A few days, she decided. _Four? Five?_ Enough for them both to cool off some. The look on Sara's face when she'd asked her to leave her office floated to the forefront of her mind again, and Ava winced. _Maybe three days._ God, she missed her already.

To force herself to move on from that line of thought, at least for now, Ava once again bent over the little notepad and added some more bullet points, more manageable ones. _Unload the dishwasher. Go to the grocery store. Finish the stack of reports she'd brought home from her desk at the Bureau. Review the seven case files that had been submitted to her today. Take out the trash._ Each item she added to list illustrated exactly how much she had left to get done, and some might have found that even more intimidating than before it was written down, for Ava, every added bullet point was one of those unruly thoughts laid bare. Clear, concise. If it was on the paper, it could be crossed off. She could do it. _I can do it._ The panicked, overwhelmed feeling had begun to subside into something more familiar, and much more productive. Yes, her life still felt like it was in a state of relative disarray, but this was her mess, and she could clean it up. _I can do this._

She wrote quickly but neatly, the ink smudging a little as she moved from one line to the next, every new bullet point like a stone taken off the weight on her chest, until out of nowhere, her stomach growled again. At first she was surprised - _but then, I really shouldn't be, that lasagna was the only real meal I've had all day,_ she surmised. She wished then that she had brought home the tupperware of snickerdoodles that Sara had left on the filing cabinet in her office. Ava had almost taken them on her way out the door, but in a flash of residual anger, she'd left them there. It was the principle of the thing, she'd told herself at the time.

Now she just wanted cookies.

Ava started to rise from her chair - the fridge didn't hold much promise, from what she'd seen, but the cabinet had a 50/50 chance of revealing a nearly-empty sleeve of Oreos - but then something caught her eye, the corner of something poking out from among the files and miscellaneous office supplies in her purse, and she slid back down into her chair. She put the bag on her lap and rummaged through it, taking out the files and the rest of the items and laying them out on the counter, until her hand grasped - there, a corner, a rectangular shape.

With a slight tremor in hands, Ava pulled the tupperware with the snickerdoodles out of her bag. Her heart rate jumped, like a lurch in her chest, senses suddenly on high alert, bringing the unbroken stillness of her house around her into sharp focus. She had left the snickerdoodles in her office; it was a decision she'd made, she remembered it clearly, and yet here they were, buried at the bottom of her bag. The purse had been over her arm as she left her office, and beside her in the car on the way home; there had been no opportunity for someone to have slipped the container in the bag without her noticing, and yet, somebody had. _The only time it was out of my sight was when I dropped it by the door when I got here. _

_ …Which means there's someone in the house._

That realization was more than enough to set off alarms in her head, but the prickling of fear at the base of her neck wasn't just because of what she found in her purse - it was also what she didn't find. Her gun was there, which brought her a moment of relief, but that was quickly followed by an increased sense of panic as she whipped it out and checked the magazine.

_ Someone had taken all the bullets out of her gun_. The weapon was empty. So far as protecting her went, it now had about as much potential as the fork she'd eaten her lasagna with. And to finish off the trifecta - Ava turned the entire bag upside-down, letting the contents spill out over the countertop just to be sure - yes, her phone was missing, too.

Ava dove across the counter, reaching over it and down into the sink, fingers grasping until she found what she was looking for: the handle of the knife she'd used to chop vegetables for the salad that now sat in the fridge the other day. It wasn't made to be a weapon, but it was big, and it was sharp, and right now, it was all she had. Ava gripped it tightly and spun around, surveying her apartment warily.

Even through all her flurried motion, her realization, her transition into a state of alarm, the rest of the apartment had been silent. There was no creak of a footstep on the floor above her, or on the stairs; no click of a gun aiming at her head, no scrape of a knife being slid out of its sheath. That was what scared her most, as she spun slowly, eyes raking over every inch of the space around her, darting over every corner, hesitating at every shadow. The only light on was the one in the kitchen, a bright yellow bulb glaring down over the table and casting a glow on the countertop where she'd eaten. Beyond that lamp's reach, the remainder of the apartment was a patchwork of scattered moonbeams and hazy darkness. Her eyes flicked to the clock above the stove. It was nearly two in the morning. A minute ago, she had been just about ready to call it a night, to finally change out of her work clothes and sink into bed, hoping that the softness of her pillows would offer some relief to the stiffness in her neck. Now she was wired, electricity humming through her veins. The hairs on her arms stood up as she scanned her surroundings again and again, slowly stepping out from behind the counter, towards the middle of the kitchen.

There was no one. Not in any direction. She cast glances down the hall to the front door, where she'd come in; up the stairs, as far into that corner at the top as she could see; the alcove with the cabinets where she kept spare towels. Nothing. Her accelerated pulse brought a flush of heat to her face, a rush of noise to her ears, but around her, the apartment was silent. Still. Ava spun again, brandishing the knife, her other arm braced before her, hand curled into a fist. Then -

A light clattering, like a nickel dropped to the floor. _No, not a nickel - something a little heavier, like a marble._ Whatever it was, it didn't roll, it just stuck where it landed. Ava's heart rate spiked and she turned on her heel towards the sound. Towards the door.

A moment ago, the hall had been empty, she was sure of it; there wasn't anything to hide behind, just the one side table the height of her waist with the picture of her and Sara, and another a little further inside with a small lamp positioned on it. And there was no way to get to the door without crossing her line of sight, especially since she'd been scanning her surroundings for a few minutes now, tensely, thoroughly. Nobody could have arrived at that spot without her seeing - and yet, there, a figure had appeared, a shadow, a silhouette in the dark. A man stood in her hallway, between her and the door, and as her breath caught in her chest, he took one slow step forward, then another. A second clattering sound came. _Step._ The clattering again. Then: a low whistle, slow notes in a darkly familiar tune, but slightly off-key, and the notes ground against her mind, as if causing actual friction.

Her headache intensified, and a nausea rose in her stomach, but she forced it down. It's the music, she realized somewhere in the back of her head and with a sinking feeling, something about the music was having this physical effect on her. The same song she'd heard in the parking lot, the music on the wind. The man took another step, and something else clattered to the floor at his feet. _What was it?_ She couldn't tell, not until he crossed from the shadow of the hallway and into the glow of the kitchen light.

_Bullets_. He was holding the bullets from her gun, and dropping them one by one onto the floor.


	3. Chapter 3: Glass

Chapter 3: Glass

_\- Then -_

She didn't know what she expected him to do - lunge forward, attack her, pull out a weapon? But what she didn't expect was for him to pause at the edge of the hall, at the entrance to the kitchen, and lean nonchalantly against the wall, one arm up to support his weight, one ankle crossed coolly over the other. And she certainly hadn't expected to recognize his face.

He regarded her evenly, but she must have shown the recognition on her face, because as she realized who she was staring at, his eyes lit up, and a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Desmond," she said, the name coming out of her mouth barely above a whisper. The man raised an eyebrow, then looked down, surveying himself.

"Yes, I wear him rather well, don't I?" he said, extending one arm out in front of him and flexing his hand, as if testing to make sure all the fingers worked. He dropped the arm and glanced back up to Ava.

"Wearing him?" she asked without moving, holding the knife out between them, though still the intruder made no advance towards her.

"Yes," Not-Desmond said with a nod, "I'm just living here for a while. It's a good body, conventionally attractive, strong, reliable. And of course," his eyes flashed coldly, "Walking around in it does a number on old Johnny." His grin widened, then he paused.

"Oh, but what kind of manners are these, I apologize," he said, and he brought his arm down from where it had braced him against the wall. He extended his hand out towards her, even as Ava took two steps back. "Neron," he said.

He let his hand hang there before him for several seconds, and the time stretched on, until Ava spoke up.

"You're not Desmond, but you're…_wearing…_ his body," she said. "That would make you - "

Neron dropped his hand from between them and put it in his pocket, again leaning his shoulder against the wall. "A demon," he said in a chipper tone, nodding as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Possessing the body of John Constantine's lover, for all manner of assorted motivations, I assure you." Neron made a flourish of a hand gesture before him to accentuate his words, and Ava felt queasy.

"How do you know him?" Neron asked, and Ava blinked.

"What?"

"Desmond," Neron said. "I wasn't aware that you two had any kind of history."

Ava didn't want to answer him, didn't want to say another word to this literal demon who had broken into her home, wanted to be anywhere but here, but right now he wasn't moving towards her, they were just talking. Talking meant more time to draw this out, to figure out a plan. Her mental gears turning in the back of her mind, she cleared her throat to answer him. "We don't," Ava said shortly. "I know his face from my files."

"Ah, right, that makes sense," Neron nodded knowingly. "You're all read up on the situation between John and Desmond, aren't you? You're read up on everything, I suppose, as Director of the Time Bureau." Neron wasn't even looking at her; he appeared to be examining his nails, absently picking at them. Ava shifted her weight a little more onto her back leg - a slightly more stable fighting stance - and the demon's eyes flicked up in an instant, pupils dilated, attention sharp, and Ava's breath hitched.

"So that's why you're here?" Ava said quickly. Her mouth felt dry. She readjusted her grip on the knife. "Because I'm Director of the Time Bureau? You want information?"

Neron's features twisted into a smile again. "You're half right, Miss Sharpe," he said. Ava didn't like the sound of her name on his tongue. "I _am_ here because of your job. But," he said, and he took a half-step forward, no longer leaning on the wall, facing her square-on, "It's not information that I'm after." He shrugged, hands in his pockets, eyebrows raised, but his eyes were cold as ever. "It's you."

He was still too far to strike with her knife - which was good, since he was still too far to reach her, but unfortunate because his last comment, over all his others, chilled her to the core. If it was information he was after, well, Ava had trained for this, she felt relatively confident that she could talk herself out of the situation, whether by feeding him false intel, or giving him access codes that had alarms built in, so they would let the user in the system, but send an alert to security personnel indicating that the codes had been given under duress. A hostile operative seeking information, that was something the Bureau had protocols for, and Ava knew every Bureau protocol by heart. But a demon coming after her?

"Why?" she heard herself ask, almost as if her vocal cords had elected to voice the syllable without the input of her brain.

"Well, not all of you, I suppose," Neron amended, his tone still hauntingly light. He tilted his head to the side, maintaining eye contact with her. "Just your body."

As a woman, that was a terrifying thing to hear from a man, and it was this fear that struck Ava first; it was followed by the more logical - could logic be applied here, dealing with a literal demon? - reason for Neron's words.

"You already have a body," Ava said, feeling a sliver of pride when she successfully managed to keep her voice from shaking. She gestured at Neron with her free hand. "And you just told me you liked it. What do you want with mine?"

Neron smiled again, widely this time, his white teeth gleaming, reminding Ava more like fangs than a real smile. He was like an animal baring his teeth.

"You're the Director of the Time Bureau!" he said, grandly, like he was announcing it out to a stadium. "The access you have to magical creatures, the control you have over the Bureau, the influence you have in Washington…" he paused. "The things I could do, with a body like that," he mused, his voice suddenly low, hungry, drunk on the notions of power in his head, and even though he hadn't physically struck her, it took all of Ava's willpower not to flinch.

"But alas…" Neron sighed, eyes flicking up and down her body once more in a way that made her skin crawl, "I don't want it for me. I need your body for a friend. Tabitha. She's - well, she's coming to visit soon, it's been planned for quite some time, and you see, everything's been arranged save for the lodging." He flashed her a wicked grin. "That's where you come in, love."

Ava had been exercising patience, caution, even through the bone-deep fear that had begun to take root within her; in the absence of an immediate escape option, she'd chosen to wait it out, maneuver through the encounter, listen, learn what she could. Well, she'd heard enough. It was the "love" that did it, that snapped her into action so quickly it was like her muscles were pressed springs waiting to be released.

_ You can't call me that._ Sara called her that, called over her shoulder as she said goodbye, next to her ear in the mornings, between kisses at any time of day._ Love._ It sounded wrong, on his lips. Ava had heard enough. _Time to go._

Without warning, Ava launched herself backwards, vaulting over her kitchen table, around assorted furniture - the couch, a chair, a lamp that wasn't turned on. She catapulted herself towards the back door, not taking the time to turn and see how closely the intruder was following her, that would waste precious seconds -

_There._ The door handle glinted in the moonlight and she grasped at it, fingers fumbling briefly as she unhitched the locking mechanism, turning the knob desperately, pushing with all her might. The door wouldn't budge. It barely even rattled. She kept turning the door handle, throwing her weight against the frame. _Why isn't it working? Why isn't it -_

Ava chanced a glance over her shoulder, convinced that she would feel Neron's grip on her arms any second, wrenching her away from her escape attempts, but was startled to see that he hadn't moved at all. He still stood in the transition space between her front hall and her kitchen, hands in his pockets. His body language spoke of disinterest, nonchalance, but his eyes sang a different tune. They sparked with - _what? Amusement? Satisfaction?_ Ava felt another flush in her face, though from renewed anger or the physical exertion, she couldn't say.

She spun back around, abandoning the uncooperative door and turning instead to the adjacent window. Shifting her grip on the knife in her hand, she drove the hilt forward with all of her strength, striking the glass like a hammer.

It was thick glass, so she hadn't expected it to shatter in one go, but her strike made no visible mark on the glass, no crack, nothing. Again she raised her arm, brought it down with all her might, felt the impact reverberate up her arm. Again, the window showed absolutely no signs of duress.

A light suddenly flicked on, off to Ava's side. She turned and saw that Neron had closed some of the distance between them; he now had crossed the kitchen, and stood by the lamp she had run past to get to this door. A couch extended lengthwise between them, that was all.

Ava felt disheveled; her hair was falling into her face, and a bead of sweat traced its way down the small of her back. She was breathing heavily. Neron regarded her from the other side of the couch, looking bemused. Honestly, that scared her more than if he had run after her in a fit of rage. It would have been terrifying, but she knew how to handle herself in a fight, she knew how to deal with a person acting on those emotions. This… what the hell was she supposed to do with this?

Neron raised a hand, gesturing at the door and the window, now illuminated. "Binding spells," he said by way of explanation, and nodded at the door. When he made no effort to move towards her any more, she let her gaze flit over to where he was indicating, and saw a small black symbol about the size of her hand on the wood just above the knob. It appeared to have been etched there, either carved or burned somehow.

"That one means 'lock,'" Neron continued. "A minor rune, but very effective, as you've seen." He raised an eyebrow and jerked his chin towards the window. "That was a little trickier, I needed to lock it, but also prevent the glass from breaking." Yes, Ava could see two runes on the window, one carved into the sill, the other - a different symbol, with fewer harsh lines and more curves - looking like it had been drawn on the glass with charcoal.

"Still a minor rune, but considerably more challenging to perfect. It means 'hold,'" Neron supplied.

Ava's heart raced. She cast her eyes around the newly-lit apartment and was appalled to see small binding spells on every visible barrier between her and the outside world. There was one on every window, and if it was etched into this door, she'd bet the situation was matched on the front door as well. Had they been there the whole time, since she'd been home? How had she missed them? But then, Neron had managed to simply appear in the front hallway, so she supposed that carving a few runes undetected was well within his realm of expertise. She inhaled sharply, but before she could speak, Neron interjected.

"Before you scream, I'll have you know that I've also placed wards along the street outside, which will have the effect of subtly preventing anyone from approaching the apartment while we're in it, as well as sonic charms to keep sound originating inside from being heard outside."

A swooping sensation swept over Ava, and she reached out to steady herself by putting one hand on the edge of the couch. The other still gripped the knife's handle, but it rested at her side for the moment. Through her heavy breathing and the rushing in her ears, it took Ava a moment to give a name to that sensation.

Panic.

_ How am I supposed to get out of this one, Sara?_

_ You'd know what to do. Improvisation is your middle name. You're given critical missions to ensure the safety of the timeline, and eight out of ten times, you wing it - and it works. You've been to hell and back, so you'd be able to escape a demon, Sara. Why can't I?_

"If you're powerful enough to get into my apartment, steal my weapon, and lock down the place," Ava said, breaking the silence and hoping she sounded more confident than she felt, "Then why am I still here? Why waste time with banter, explanation? Why isn't this Tabitha wearing me yet?"

Neron's eyes gleamed, and he spread his arms, as if welcoming the inquiry. "Glad you asked," he commented. "You see, for a demonic possession to be successful," Neron said in a professorial tone, "The host must be willing."

"Willing?" Ava echoed hoarsely, her voice betraying an odd coupling of bewilderment mixed with dawning horror.

"Mmm, you see, two consciousnesses cannot occupy one body for any extended period of time, and hope maintain any kind of stable state. It's just not sustainable. And as convenient as it would be, there unfortunately isn't a way for me to simply make you go." He must have noted Ava's confusion, so he pressed on. "I cannot force your consciousness from your body," he clarified. "So, my options are rather limited. Option A is to simply ask you if you would be a willing host." Neron frowned. "Actually, I suppose I haven't done that officially yet. Apologies." His features smoothed over once again, and he spoke to her as if extending a lucrative business proposition.

"Ava Sharpe, will you be so gracious as to willingly offer your body as a host shell for my esteemed companion and fellow demon Tabitha, acknowledging that this action will induce your consciousness into a dormant state within your own mind, eliminating all awareness, as well as any ability to control or access your sensory or motor functions for the duration of the demon's residence in your body?"

_God, he says it like he's making a sales pitch,_ Ava thought, suddenly overcome with an intense urge to vomit at the notion. _Offer your body? Host shell? Loss of all awareness and motor control?_ She suppressed the urge to regurgitate her dinner, but couldn't shop a shudder from shaking her shoulders, mind flooded with parallels between Neron's words and her experience as a clone. Neron, surveying her reaction from across the room, seemed to misinterpret her response.

"I can't promise that it won't hurt," he said, "But I can promise that it will be quick." He drummed the fingers of one hand on the back of the couch, one eyebrow raised.

_ Holy hell, this maniac actually expects an answer._

"No," Ava said clearly, and Neron's brow furrowed. "You don't have my permission," she contineud. A plan had begun to materialize in her mind, but she was biding her time, waiting for the opportune moment. In the meantime, she tried to infuse steel into her voice. "You'll never get my permission."

The demon sighed, and for an instant, Ava thought she made out a flicker of genuine disappointment flash across his features.

"Well, they say to hope for the best, but plan for the worst," Neron said. His gaze hardened. "I'm prepared for Option B."

"Which is?" Ava prompted him. He liked to talk. She used it to her advantage, mapping out her move. She'd only get one shot.

"Option B is to wear down your defenses until your mind retreats to its dormant state of its own accord, or you beg me to send you there." Neron grinned, but there was no malevolent humor in his expression now, only a chilling candor. "I will _break_ you, love. Carve your consciousness out of that body and then get Tabitha all settled where you used to be." He cocked his head, as if feeding off the fear that Ava knew was plainly written across her face. Neron seemed poised to continue. "I will - "

Ava moved mid-sentence, mid-syllable, not waiting for him to pause again or take another step closer. Instead, she dodged the couch, deftly maneuvered through the room, through the kitchen down the still-shadowy front hall, straight for the front door. Like a parody sitcom laugh track from hell, she heard Neron's laugh reverberate through the apartment. He knew she couldn't get through the door. _He thinks it's _funny _to see me try_.

Except, Ava wasn't aiming for the door.

Instead, she threw herself a foot to the right, to the top left corner of the textured glass window alongside the front door. She honed directly in on the small black rune drawn onto the glass and frantically swiped at it with her sleeve, rubbing with all her energy. Now she heard it, heard him - footsteps approaching, he was crossing her apartment, not running as she had, but walking, taking the time to cross the distance. _I'm worrying him._ At least, that's what Ava chose to believe.

When she pulled her arm away, the symbol remained - but smudged, its edges blurry, its shape a little less defined. It couldn't just be ordinary charcoal, then, or it would have all come off on the fabric of her shirt, but then again, this was a demon charm she was dealing with, so she limited her surprise and focused on the task at hand. Neron had crossed half the apartment; this would have to do.

Ava raised the knife and again, just as she'd done to the back window, she brought the hilt down on the glass with all the force she could muster. It was enough force to break someone's arm, she'd done it before in the field, _come on_ -

A crack.

The window remained intact, but a fissure appeared, extending like a lightning strike out from the center of the rune. A seed of hope took root, and Ava didn't hesitate: again, she struck, and again, and again, and the fissure was joined by another, then a third, and now it looked like a spiderweb sending tendrils of instability through the glass and through the spell that held it together,_ one more strike should do it, just one more - _

She barely registered his presence behind her, such was his speed, when she was on the precipice of shattering the window. A slightly darker shadow, that was all the warning she got, followed by an animalistic growl, and then her head felt like it was on fire.

Neron grabbed a fistful of her hair and wrenched his arm back with superhuman strength. Ava let out a strangled cry as she was thrown backwards down the hall, away from the cracked window. _So close._ Her arms flailing for anything to hold on to, anything to steady herself, get back on her feet. _Crash._ A plant in a vase by the door, knocked to its side. _Scrape._ A table with a lamp on it, torn from its position against the wall, while the lamp fell to the floor and the lightbulb cracked. It felt like her hair had nearly been ripped from her scalp. When she landed, stars exploded in her vision, and her shoulders slammed against the floor, though she managed to stop her head from snapping back.

There was no more toying with her, it seemed, not anymore. Ava's vision hadn't stopped swimming, but she saw Neron's figure advancing towards her, nearly on her, and she reached out, fumbling for the first thing she could find. A chair leg, up back behind where she lay on the ground. She gripped it tightly and threw it forward, anything to put an obstacle between herself and the demon.

Neron swatted the chair to the side like it was no heavier than a pillow, but Ava used the time to scramble to her feet, stumbling backwards the whole time. _If I can just get to the back window, maybe -_

Neron lunged for her, and she struck out with the knife, slashing across, then up. He dodged the first attempt, but the second grazed his arm, and the demon hissed in pain. Ava followed up with a punch directly to his recent wound, and Neron grunted at the impact. Then she drove the knife up, directly at his abdomen this time - _can demons die from mortal wounds?_ Ava fully intended to find out - but in a vicious flurry of movement, he caught her wrist and twisted it back. Ava yelled out in pain as the strain became too much and her fingers lost their grip on the knife. It fell to the floor, but Ava didn't hear the impact, because - still holding her wrist in a vice-grip with one hand - Neron drove his fist into her stomach.

The air was expelled from Ava's lungs, and they burned as she struggled desperately to inhale, to bring oxygen back to her muscles. She gasped for breath, and Neron took advantage of her incapacitation. _Slam._ Again he drove his fist into her, knuckles colliding with her side this time, and Ava doubled over. Her head was spinning; she tasted blood in her mouth, she'd bitten her tongue as her jaw clenched during one of the blows. She raised her eyes up, hair falling in her face, and Neron was there, right there, inches away, fire in his eyes. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed, and Ava flew back. There was no saving her head from the impact this time, and her eyes clenched shut with the force of it. Her skull hit a mirror on her wall and she heard the mirror crack, immediately followed by a searing pain on the back of her head, and she knew that this one had drawn blood. Her stomach heaved and as her head reflexively bent forward, she felt her hair pulled by the mirror, caught on the shards of glass, stuck to her own blood. She felt sick, but Neron was still there, and he didn't give her the chance to recover.

The demon's arm shot out, fingers wrapping around her throat, and once the pressure started, it didn't stop. Ava kicked, felt her foot impact his thigh, but he didn't budge, didn't drop his gaze from hers. Her hands grasped at his arm, beat against it, scraped it with her nails, but it was no use, and more spots were appearing in her vision now, her own heartbeat louder in her ears as the rest of her senses began to dim.

_No -_

She kicked again, but her lungs were screaming out for air that wouldn't come, and every blow she tried to land was weaker than the last.

Ava's eyes darted about the apartment, searching for anything to get her out of this, any weapon, any hope, but there was nothing in reach and her fingertips were cold and a high-pitched ringing had entered her ears and she couldn't focus, the edges of shapes around her becoming hazy -

There was nothing to grab on to, nothing to use as a weapon, nothing to do except drown into panicked oblivion as Neron choked her into unconsciousness, but as Ava faded and her senses slipped away, her frantic gaze snagged on one thing, and she clung to it, held onto it until her vision went black.

Somehow, in all the violence and chaos, the framed photo of her and Sara had gone untouched, and Ava stared at it, that frozen scene of the two of them, happy, laughing, together.

_ Sara. _

_ At least Sara's safe._

Such was Ava Sharpe's last thought, before the oxygen deprivation became too much and she and lost consciousness, limbs going limp. Only then did Neron release his grip on her throat, deep bruises already forming where he'd held her, and he let Ava's unconscious body fall heavily to the floor.


	4. Chapter 4: Awake

****AVALANCE RISING** I promised both Avalance and hurt/comfort, and with this, I deliver on that promise. Hope you like it! - PV**

Chapter 4:

_\- Now -_

Walking away from the bridge of the Waverider, the celebratory chatter from the rest of the crew faded, and Sara gave Ava's hand a little squeeze as they lapsed into a comfortable silence. Ava appreciated the touch, and this easy, reassuring closeness she had with the woman beside her. She'd missed this, so much. _So much_. It had been more than a hole in her heart, when they'd been separated - it had grown into an ache, something tangible, physical, and Ava only understood the magnitude of it now that it was healing. _Had healed_. They'd made some real progress together as they'd navigated her purgatory, and the simple joy accompanying those accomplishments was intoxicating.

The soothing of that tension, however, unfortunately was not matched by a parallel easing of the other hurt that remained, and this fact became more and more clear to Ava as they put more distance between themselves and the bridge. She could feel bruises on and under her skin, in some places overlapping each other. Her limbs felt heavy, muscles utterly burned out. Ava was exhausted to the core. She felt like she had nothing left to give.

_Sleep_. What she wanted most now was a long sleep, somewhere safe, somewhere warm. Safe and warm - now those were two things she hadn't felt in two weeks, and as for sleep, well, that too had become a stranger, and the effects were taking hold.

"Ava?"

Ava started and realized that they had stopped in the hallway of the Waverider. Sara was looking up at her, a little furrow of concern in her brow. "Did you hear what I asked?" Sara said, giving Ava's and another light squeeze.

"Hmm? No, I - I guess I didn't." Ava hadn't even realized Sara had spoken at all. _I'm still lost in my head._ That thought scared Ava more than she cared to admit to herself, so she did her best to shake the notion and focus on her girlfriend.

"I just wanted to confirm whether you're staying here for the next few days," Sara said. "Of course, you're welcome to stay as long as you want," she added hurriedly, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips before fading to a somber expression all too quickly, "But Gideon thinks it'd be best for you to stay under medical observation for a little while, and John wants to keep an eye on you in case there's any lingering demon-y effects, and your house - "

Sara ran her hand, the one not entwined with Ava's fingers, through her hair, her gaze cast off to the side, distracted as if stuck on a memory. After a second, though, she shook her head and glanced back up at Ava with a tight smile. "Your house still needs some cleaning up, but don't worry about that. I'll take care of it."

Memories flashed through her head, disjointed: _a plant fallen to the floor, the vase cracked, the dirt within it scattered across the hardwoods. A chair on its side. A nearly-shattered window. A broken mirror -_ Ava winced, remembering - _a broken mirror with her blood on the shards._

_ God, that all seems so distant now._ That fight, when Neron had come, when he'd taken her… those wounds had been overwritten, and new bruises had colored over the old. It was these fresher injuries that now clamored for her attention - or rather, never let her fully tear her attention away - but for Sara, Ava realized, the images of that chaos-strewn apartment must be present at the forefront of her mind. A barely audible sigh escaped Ava's lips, but Sara noticed it, and she frowned, regarding Ava questioningly. Ava shook her head - as if that would be enough to keep the darker thoughts away - willing her features to form a half-hearted smile.

"Okay, so Gideon and John want me to stay here, but what about - "

Sara didn't let her finish, cutting her off with a kiss, unlacing her hand from Ava's and reaching up, placing it lightly at the base of Ava's neck, tugging her down as she stood on her toes to meet her. In a moment, the other arm was up around Ava's shoulders too, pulling her closer. The first kiss was quick, soft, and it was followed by a second - deeper, but still tender. Ava felt an urgency in Sara's movements, even as she detected an overlying sense of delicacy to the actions. _Delicacy. Like I'm fragile._

Even though Sara was being careful, the physical contact reanimated the hurt in her body, and Ava winced. Sara felt it and started to pull away, but Ava stopped her with a touch, a hand on her arm, and this time it was Ava who tugged Sara into the kiss. Ava kissed her like she was trying to breathe her in, like Sara was oxygen that she had been deprived of for far too long.

A muscle in her shoulder twinged suddenly and Ava couldn't suppress a reactionary hiss of pain, and this time Sara did pull away, worry clouding her features.

"Let's get you settled in," she said, taking Ava's hand again. "You need to rest." She led Ava the remainder of the way down the hall to her quarters. "That's an order," she added as they came up to the door, glancing over her shoulder up at Ava, but her tone was soft, and the words were accompanied by a little smile that made Ava's heart flutter. There was so much care in that expression. It was so earnest.

Ava put her hands up in a tired mock surrender. "Trust me, _Captain_, I'm not resisting," she said, passing through the doorway.

Sara flicked a light switch, illuminating the room. The bed, which was where Ava turned first, was unmade, and looked like it had been left in a rush; the sheets were skewed to one side, as if they'd gotten caught on a foot trying to find the floor before being fully awake. Sara passed beside her and went to the dresser, pulling open one drawer, then another, rummaging through, grabbing a few assorted articles of clothing. After a minute she turned back to Ava, presenting a neat pile of folded clothes.

"For you to sleep in," she offered. "Pretty sure the shirt was originally yours anyway, and you either left it here on purpose, or I kept it for myself," she said, grinning wryly.

"Thank you," Ava said, taking the pile. She stared down at it, the garments folded, their edges clean, the fabric soft, and Ava was suddenly struck by how incongruous she felt, to the clothes in her arms. Her body, unwashed and beat up as it was, didn't match what they represented. _Order. Comfort. Rest._ Ava wanted nothing more than to welcome it, but at the same time, it felt foreign, and she hated that. _Why can't things be like before? Why am I getting hung up on this?_

"Hey, where'd you go?" Sara said, and Ava realized she had paused when taking the clothes. Ava forced another smile and reached out, tucking some stray hair behind Sara's ear.

"Nowhere, I'm right here." _I'm here, I'm safe,_ Ava told herself. "Just got distracted for a second…" she trailed off. "I think I'm gonna take a shower first. You go ahead and change, I won't be long." The urge to feel the water running over her body, to feel clean and fresh and _herself_ again, was suddenly rather intense.

"All right, I'll get the bed ready, then," said Sara. "I'm here if you need anything, okay?"

"Thank you," Ava said, nodding once at her, then turned and entered the bathroom, flicking the lights on and shutting the door behind her with an audible click.

Ava moved numbly, running a washcloth under water from the sink and pressing it to her face, then rubbing as though it could wash away all the exhaustion that she knew was clear there. When she brought the cloth away, she was leaning over, bent towards the mirror, hands bracing herself against the sink. Her reflection stared back at her and she studied herself, skin flushed red from the washcloth, eyes bloodshot from the tiredness, hair unwashed. Her jaw was a bit discolored along the left side - a bruise that hadn't fully healed. She wondered how long it would take, before the woman in the reflection was the one she remembered being, the one she recognized.

_ I look like I'm playing dress-up_. The thought occurred to Ava as she compared the clothes she wore to the woman in the reflection staring back at her. The clothes were her own, a spare outfit she had left in Sara's closet, and they, like the pajamas Sara had handed her earlier, felt right now like everything she _wasn't._ They belonged on a differnt, Ava, an Ava whose back was a little straighter, who wore the blazer like armor, who matched their air of authority. _Authority._ It had been two weeks since Ava had had any _authority_ at all.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Ava turned from the mirror towards the shower. She went to turn the knob, to get the water hot, but then dropped her hand. _Better undress first, don't want to waste water_.

Ava reached her hands up, grasping the front of her blazer, but when she moved her arms outward to slip it off her shoulders, her muscles tensed up, and she gasped sharply, dropping the fabric. Tears stung her eyes, though from the pain or the sensation of failure, she wasn't certain. _Shoes. I'll start with the shoes and go from there._

Ava sank to the floor, back against the wall, drawing her legs in criss-crossed and pulling at one of her heels. The shoe fit snugly, so she had to work at it, and this small exertion, too, put strain on her muscles. Every effort she underwent seemed to result in a magnified pain response from somewhere on her body, and when she finally managed to successfully free both her feet from the heels she'd been in, she thrust the shoes away from her with a grunt of frustration. Again, salt stung the corners of her eyes. As she reached up to wipe them away, her hand trembled. She was breathing heavily. _This was supposed to help me rest, god-damn it, but how can I shower if I can't even take my _fucking_ clothes off?_ She'd put them on just fine earlier, but sitting here now, Ava chalked that up to the euphoria she'd been overwhelmed with, the thrill of finally escaping purgatory and being back with the Waverider crew, back with the woman she loved.

Her vision blurred and she blinked more tears out of them. When her sight cleared, she found herself staring at her feet. They were bare - she hadn't been wearing any socks under the shoes. They'd been bare for two weeks, and they looked like it. There was dirt under the toenails, and smudges of wear on the skin. Ava took a deep breath and her body shook. Her vision blurred again, more tears threatening to fall, and Ava bit her lip, closing her eyes, bending her head back until it touched the wall.

"S-" she began, but a knot in her throat cut her off. _Why now, why am I falling apart now?_

_ Because everything went so fast after I woke up, and Sara was there, and I went to celebrate with the crew, and I was so relieved that it was finally over, and now…_ Now things were slowing down, now her mind was catching up with the state of her body. _I have to deal with this now. _

Ava swallowed, throat burning with the emotion she was choking down. When she had regained her bearings at least enough to speak, she raised her voice.

"Sara?" Ava called, eyes still closed, head still pressed back against the wall behind her. "Could you, um - " she faltered. 'Help me' sounded pathetic, and she couldn't bring herself to say it. "Could you give me a hand with something?" she tried.

The doorknob turned so quickly that Ava's first thought was wondering if Sara had been sitting outside the door the whole time. The door opened slowly, and Sara, now changed into pajamas, stepped into the bathroom. Ava watched Sara scan the room at eye-level, then find her, sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest, barefoot, still fully clothed on the floor. The expression on Sara's face when she saw her there nearly broke Ava's heart. Sara was at her side in an instant.

"Ava," she said, kneeling before her, lowering herself down to match Ava's eye level. "What do you - " Sara swallowed. "How can I help?" she asked softly.

_ God, it would be so easy to cry._ To pull Sara close, to bury her head in the woman's shoulder, to let her arms hold her as she wept all the everything that she was feeling away. Ava was tempted, for an instant, and in that second, she almost lost the ability to decide, her emotions nearly welled over and made the decision for her, but then she subdued them. _For now. _

"I need you to help me - " Ava started, then laughed a little, though it didn't reach her eyes. "This isn't going to be nearly as sexy as it could on any other night," she interjected before continuing, _come on, just spit it out -_ "But I need you to help me take my clothes off."

_ Why had that been so hard to say?_ Asking for help had never been Ava's forte, because asking for help meant that she _needed_ help, and someone who needed help, well, that wasn't the image of a Time Bureau Director who had her life under control. But now it was said, and the words lingered in the air as Ava watched their meaning - and all that they implied - occur to Sara. Something hard flashed behind Sara's eyes, quickly - an emotion, a memory? Someone less acquainted with her would have missed it - but whatever that was, Sara pushed it away as she nodded. "Come here, it will be easier if you stand," she said, and with that, she gingerly helped Ava to her feet. When they were both standing, Sara let Ava's hand go for a moment, and turned towards the shower. Instead of turning the shower knob, however, she bent to start water for a bath instead.

"Gideon, stop the water when the tub is full, and keep it hot," Sara instructed the ship's computer.

"Yes, Captain," came the computer's cool response. Satisfied, Sara straightened up and returned to Ava.

"Here, let's start with this," Sara said. She stood in front of Ava, reached out to grip the hem of the blazer, and helped ease the garment off her shoulders, walking behind her to tug it off. Ava shrugged and it slipped off more easily. Goosebumps rose on her arms as the skin was exposed, and Ava shivered involuntarily. Sara folded the blazer and set it on the sink, then turned back to Ava.

Ava got the sense that Sara was working very hard to keep her expression neutral, or at least to keep from reacting too strongly to what she saw, but she couldn't keep her jaw from clenching slightly, and though she knew Sara had seen at least this much already from when she'd found her in the hotel room, Ava also knew that Sara was re-processing the bruising on her shoulder, the raw skin around her wrists. Sara stepped around to Ava's side, close, her eyes fixed on something, and she lifted her fingers up to a swatch of skin on her upper left arm, which Ava could see in the mirror was mildly inflamed. The redness, she knew, was due to the injury there: a small black symbol, about three inches tall. A rune.

Sara's fingers brushed the rune, but when Ava flinched she retracted her hand quickly with a sharp intake of breath.

"That's no tattoo," she said, her tone hard, after a few seconds' pause. Ava shook her head no, then bowed it, eyes cast to the floor.

"Is it like this one?" Sara asked, indicating at the square of gauze they had secured with medical tape over the upper left side of Ava's chest, which covered another such symbol. When Ava nodded, Sara swallowed, then raised her eyebrow questioningly. "Can we remove the gauze for now? It would probably be best to wash the area."

"Sure," Ava said, and Sara peeled back the medical tape, then removed the gauze, which she placed in the trash. "We can get you clean dressing for it later," she said. "For the other one too, if you need it."

_The other one._ Ava's chest tightened, and she braced herself against the sink with one arm. _Shit. How's she going to react when she sees -_

"Hey," Sara said, the word laced with concern. "I'm right here," she said. "Don't go in your corner, okay?" Sara lifted Ava's chin with two fingers, until their eyes met.

"It's not just - " Ava started, then stopped. She saw the moment when Sara understood what she had been trying to say.

"It's not just those two," Sara finished for her. "There are more."

Ava confirmed her suspicion with a short nod.

"You're worried I'll - what? Freak out? Get upset?" Sara continued, prompting her quietly, and Ava lifted her gaze up to Sara's. Her girlfriend grasped her hands and held them reassuringly. "Ava, you've seen my body. You've seen the scars I have. I - I know our experiences are different, but listen to me when I say," she said, lifting their clasped hands between them for emphasis, "Nothing that he did to you will make you less beautiful to me."

Ava felt her mouth twitch with the hint of a smile, and Sara seized on that, pressing on. "And if you're worried about me not being able to - " she faltered for a second, searching for the right word - "not being able to _handle_ it, well, I've seen my share of battle-worn bodies, many of them people I care about. Sometimes the body is mine. Now, I can't say that I like seeing you hurt, but - " Sara paused, and her even tone cracked a little, despite her efforts. "I hate it," she admitted. "Seeing you hurt and knowing you're in pain, and not being able to heal you, it's the worst thing, it's hard. But I am_ not_ going to fall apart on you," Sara promised. "I will help you navigate this. Now," she said, leading Ava towards the bathtub, "Let's do this together."

Ava was down to a black tank top and pants now, and they worked the former off first. Ava lifted the hem of the shirt about halfway up her abdomen, then higher, but when it came time to lift her arms above her head to twist it the rest of the way off, she found that she couldn't, and Sara stepped in to help, taking hold of the fabric and tugging the garment up and away.

Ava felt her face flush with - _what? Shame?_ She knew that that didn't make sense, that her injuries weren't her fault, but still, the heat rose in her face, and her ears felt hot as her torso was exposed to the light. She was grateful when Sara didn't pause, but merely reached out to the button fastening Ava's pants. She glanced up at Ava quickly, and when Ava nodded, Sara helped her out of those, as well. When that was done, Sara folded them, and while she went to set them on the counter by the sink in a pile with the rest of the clothes, Ava finished undressing, letting the remaining articles fall to the floor in a little pile that she nudged off to one side with her foot.

"Oh, Ava," Sara said quietly from behind her, and Ava turned and saw two things: one, her own naked body in the mirror; and two, Sara, now presented with the unfiltered reality of the situation, taking it in.

The first thing that came to Ava's head was, _well, it looks as bad as it feels._ Which was to say, it looked pretty bad.

Ava's entire torso, and much of her legs, looked like a morbid watercolor art piece of blacks, blues, greens, and purples, the color at any given point depending on its stage in the healing process. A particularly nasty bruise ran up her left side, starting at her hip and extending up over her ribs and beginning to wrap around to her back. Her back itself had not escaped the same fate, either; it, too, was a mottled patchwork of bruised skin and muscle. The question for the majority of her body seemed not to be whether or not it was bruised, then, but rather a matter of how deeply. Ava suspected a cracked rib or two, and potentially some bruised vertebrae, but she couldn't be certain._ Gideon can scan me tomorrow._

The hardest thing for Ava to see in this unflinching light, though, wasn't the glaring evidence of the beating she'd endured these last two weeks; she'd been in combat situations before, for the job, so seeing bruises was nothing new, though admittedly the scale of this was far beyond anything Ava had ever experienced. No, the hardest thing to take in - for herself, and Ava suspected for Sara as well - was the runes.

The one on her chest, where the gauze had been. The one on her arm. Both of these, Sara had seen. Now, she saw the rest.

One above Ava's right knee. Another, on her left shin. And _three_, there were three more on her back. One was low, near the base of her spine, off-center by about three inches; another was a little bigger, towards the left near the center of her back; and the third, the last one, up high, behind the slope between her neck and right shoulder.

_Oh, Ava._ That's all Sara had said, and in that moment, Ava was so incredibly grateful for the woman before her. Ava knew her well, better - she'd venture to say - than most, and she knew that Sara, for all her excellent leadership skills and team management abilities, still sometimes struggled with the tendency to speak first, think later. That was not so, now, and Ava appreciated it. _She's probably worked out a hundred different ways she wants to kill him_, Ava thought. _And questions - the not knowing the _how_ behind all this..._ well, Ava could imagine what she'd be thinking, if the two of them were swapped, and it was Sara who had been made to look like this. _I'd be going out of my mind not knowing. All that, and she managed to keep her reaction to 'Oh, Ava?'_

_I don't deserve you, Sara Lance. _

After what felt like hours, though it was in all likelihood no more than a few heartbeats, it was Ava who broke the silence.

"Carved."

Sara started a little, tearing her gaze from the injuries that wracked Ava's form. "What?"

"The runes. Like you said, definitely not tattoos."

"Ava, you don't have to - " Sara tried, but Ava kept going.

"He used a good old-fashioned knife, no demonic magic involved there. That came after."

"After?" Sara echoed. She was frozen where she stood, by the sink, as if moving would topple something that neither of them knew how to reconstruct. She seemed to be waiting for Ava to stop, but Ava wasn't done.

"Once the rune was drawn, he cauterized the wound with a spell. It burned the rune in, like a brand. Then he went back over the lines with this charcoal-paste mixture. It was thick, like paint, but grainy, definitely magic-adjacent, but I'm not sure exactly how." Pause. "The logistics of the charcoal wasn't exactly at the forefront of my mind, at the time," she commented softly.

"Will the charcoal wash out?" Sara said, her tone matching Ava's. Ava shrugged, then nodded.

"It would fade after some time, so he'd reapply it," she said hollowly.

Sara had done an admirable job masking her reactions thus far, but for some reason, that comment broke the facade, and for an instant, her expression was a hurricane. Anger, horror, hurt, sorrow - all of that, and more that Ava couldn't immediately identify, flashed behind her eyes, with an intensity that struck Ava to the core. She'd only known Sara in the time _after_ the woman had proclaimed herself a "reformed" assassin, but Ava knew of that part of Sara's past, and for an instant, Ava could picture what that must have looked like. She knew that none of these negative emotions were aimed at her, that they were wholly focused on Neron for all that he'd done, but in that second, Sara looked absolutely formidable. She looked _dangerous_.

And then it was gone, as quickly as it had come, the torrent of emotions behind that expression fading - or being pushed away, Ava couldn't entirely tell - and being replaced with just one: care. "Let's get you clean, and see what we can do about it, then," she said.

Sara helped Ava step into the bath, and Ava lowered herself in, letting the welcome heat of the water envelop her as she sank down. The water had been clear, but as she settled, Ava already saw swirls of dirt and something darker - the charcoal mixture perhaps - beginning to cloud it.

Sara disappeared for a second, then re-materialized at her side with a large, soft sponge in one hand and a bottle of bath soap in the other. "Where do you want to start?" she asked.

Ava thought for a second, and her eyes slid from Sara to the bottles of shampoo and conditioner on the side of the tub. "Actually, the hair, if we can," she said.

"If we can? Your wish is my command," Sara said, going for the hair products. She put some shampoo in her hands as Ava ran her fingers through her hair. She didn't get far, there were too many knots for that, but it got the job done, wetting the hair enough for Sara to apply the shampoo. Sara knelt at the side of the bathtub and encouraged Ava to lean her head back. "I've got this, you just relax," Sara said, and as she started working the shampoo into Ava's hair, gently massaging her scalp as she did so, Ava finally let herself begin to.

Forty-five minutes later, the water was no longer anywhere close to clear; instead, it was entirely fogged up with lather from Ava's now-clean hair, and soap from the sponge. The water temperature hadn't gone down at all, and Ava wondered - somewhat absently, as Sara pressed the sponge down over the rune in the middle of her back and ran it over the skin - whether Gideon had a hand in keeping the water from cooling.

Ava hugged her knees and was bent over them, baring her back to Sara, who worked the sponge over the raw runes methodically. Ava knew she was being as cautious as she could while still actually cleaning the wounds, but she couldn't help but flinch as one motion put pressure on one of the vertebrae she suspected to be bruised.

"Sorry," Sara said immediately. "I'm almost done with this one, then just one more to go." Ava nodded, head bowed, staring at the way the ends of her hair splayed out and drifted slowly in the water. She was so tired. _Almost. You're almost there_.

There came a small splash as Sara submerged the sponge, squeezing it out, re-soaking it, then lathering it up with fresh soap. "Ready?" she asked after a few seconds.

Ava closed her eyes, bracing herself. "Yeah. Go ahead."

Sara brought the sponge up to the final rune, the one behind her right shoulder, and pressed down, slowly moving the sponge across the skin. Ava inhaled quickly, unable to contain her reaction as the area immediately both stung and ached with a soreness that seemed to extend down to the bone. Right hand still holding the sponge to the area, Sara put her other hand on Ava's left shoulder, and Ava reached her hand up to hold it.

"I know it's bad, but it'll be over in a minute, and then it will be clean, and it can start to heal. In the meantime, when it hurts, squeeze my hand as hard as you want, okay?"

"Okay," Ava said, somewhat numbly, and with that, Sara resumed working the sponge over the rune. New lines of black colored the water as the charcoal paste began to wash away, and Ava watched it made patterns in the water. She focused on her breathing. In, then out, then repeat. _Again. Again_. She concentrated on regulating pacing, depth of breath, but it was a meager distraction at best, and when the rune stung again, Ava squeezed Sara's hand tightly as if it was a lifeline.

After a few minutes, Sara stopped moving the sponge over the skin, but instead of standing or telling Ava she was finished, she hesitated. Ava wasn't looking at her face, but she could _feel_ a question forming.

"What is it?" she asked, lifting her head, which felt heavier than usual on account of the waterlogged hair. She glanced over her shoulder to Sara, who was looking intensely at the final rune.

"This one, it's, um…" she sighed. "It's deeper than the others. Would you happen to know…do you any idea why?"

_ Any idea. Yeah, I have a few_.

"That was the first one he did," Ava told her after preparing her thoughts for a second. "The runes, they each mean something different, something related to whatever spell he was doing at the time." Sara regarded her evenly; Ava knew that Sara had likely suspected this, but in all the time they'd been here, she hadn't asked what they meant, and again, Ava was grateful to Sara for seeming to know, intrinsically, what to seek answers for, and what answers could perhaps wait until another day.

This one, though. Ava understood. This one was different, and it made sense to wonder why.

"The others, he'd make the marks and cauterize them, then paint on the charcoal mix, and if the spell started to fade, he'd reapply the charcoal and that seemed to rejuvenate the magic," Ava informed her. "But this one…" she tried to concentrate on forming the words, instead of remembering the experience of what she was describing. It was a difficult line to walk. "This one he did on day one, and whenever it started to wear off, instead of just adding more charcoal mix, he'd - " she faltered, and finished more quietly than when she'd started. "He'd re-carve it," she said.

This time it was Sara that squeezed Ava's hand, for a long time, not painfully, but enough to convey to Ava that she heard her, that she was so sorry, that she was here to help her get through this now. Once Ava's words had sunk in, Sara asked, slowly, "What does it mean?"

Ava turned back to stare at the edge of the tub in front of her, and she heard the drip-drip-drip of the sponge being wrung out one last time, then set aside. Then, Ava felt Sara's arms around her shoulders, Sara's lips pressed against the crown of her head, kissing her softly, before resting her head in the crook of Ava's neck, holding her in an embrace, not caring that the water from Ava's body was soaking through the pajama t-shirt that Sara wore.

"Awake," Ava answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"What?"

"The rune. It means 'awake.' He kept me awake." The entire time, the whole two weeks, Ava had either been kept awake through the entire ordeal, or trapped in her personal purgatory. Sure, that time in purgatory had been a rest of sorts for her body, but for her mind, there had been no escape. No respite. It was the reason she was so tired, why the exhaustion felt like it had taken root in her bones and settled there, unwelcome yet unyielding.

It happened quickly, like a tendril of a spiderweb snapping under the weight of a too-heavy creature treading upon it. One moment Ava was fine - well, not _fine_, not nearly, but she had her breathing under control, she had worked her mind to a point of vague numbness, where she could at least allow her brain to rest. She was as calm as she could be, given the circumstances.

And then, she wasn't.

A silent sob shook her shoulders, then another, then another, and when she sucked in air it made a hurt kind of sound, and her vision blurred thick with tears that fell hot into the soapy, dirty water. Sara's hand left her shoulder, and suddenly the water around her rose collectively. It took Ava a few seconds to realize what had happened: Sara had stepped into the tub with her.

Sara lowered herself into the water behind Ava. She hadn't taken off her pajamas, and they clung to her skin as she eased herself down. She parted her legs and put one on either side of Ava's hunched form in a V-shape, cradling her. One arm, she snaked around Ava's midsection - _gently, gently_ \- and the other, she ran through the woman's hair. Ava let herself be pulled back until her head rested on Sara's chest, and the steady rise and fall of Sara's breathing was a rock in the tempest-tossed sea that Ava felt like she was drowning in.

Sara didn't try to tell Ava to hush, or ask her any more questions. There, in the hot, muddled water of the bath, Sara simply held Ava as she cried.

"I'm here," Sara whispered as Ava's body shook, and the water lapped at the curves of the bath. Over and over she said it, until the shaking stopped, until the breathing resembled something close to regular, until Ava finally drifted into sleep. _Sleep in the bathtub?_ Under normal circumstances, it was never even within the realm of consideration, but here, now, Ava found herself unconcerned by it. She knew Sara would keep her head above the water. _She always does._

As Ava fell asleep, Sara continued saying the words, like a mantra - like a promise, though whether it was to herself or to the woman in her arms, she eventually couldn't tell anymore.

"I'm here, I'm here, I'm here."


	5. Chapter 5: Lightbulb

Chapter 5: Lightbulb

\- Then -

The cold in her hands was the first sensation Ava registered.

Next, the sting in her wrists.

The throb of her skull. _Where it hit the mirror._

An uncomfortable tenderness in her midsection: the beginnings of bruises forming. _Getting punched will do that to you._

Ava almost groaned aloud as she woke, but managed to stop herself before she made a sound. Instead, she did her best to modulate her breathing, to keep it as close as she could to the even rhythm it had assumed during her slumber.

_ It's not like the movies,_ Ava mused to herself as she got her bearings. Characters always re-entered the waking world with exaggerated animation, eyes wild, recklessly scanning their surroundings with no method of analysis, the event often followed by frantic exclamations along the lines of _Where am I? What happened?_ Instead, Ava woke gradually, and had the presence of mind to lay low for the moment. She remembered everything immediately - Neron, the fight, _the god-damn snickerdoodles_.

_ My body won't let me forget_, she thought as another lance of pain shot through her skull.

Ava kept her eyes closed for the time being, instead focusing on checking in with her other senses. If Neron was here, the goal was to make him think she was still asleep, for as long as possible. Time Bureau protocols for captivity at enemy hands surfaced in her mind.

_ In the event of an abduction, maintain presence of mind at all times, when possible. Resist all efforts to impair your perception, whether with drugs or other means. Make yourself aware of your surroundings. Avoid angering the enemy or provoking violence. …A little late for that,_ Ava thought wryly, with as much humor as she could muster, given the circumstances. _Take every opportunity to learn the enemy's behavior and motivations. Then, utilize them in the course of your intelligence gathering and further actions._

Further actions. Like escape.

Ava brought her attention back to her physical situation. She felt fabric on her skin._ Clothes. My clothes._ Her shirt felt off-center, probably from the fight. Her feet, however, were bare, and her toes touched a rough carpet. Clothes were good - on a basic level, it meant there was a safeguard against suffering from exposure, a concern if she were being kept outside.

…Which, it seemed, she wasn't. Her back was against a wall, knees close to her chest, drawn close as if by instinct. Her arms were in an awkward position, held a little up and off to the side. Restraints dug into her wrists. Metal. Handcuffs? Manacles? There was a chain between them, holding them together, and also holding her_ to_ something, something that dug into her side. Ava chanced a peek, opening her eyes just barely, and letting her surroundings come into focus.

A radiator. Ava was on the floor, chained to a radiator.

For some reason, this mundane detail made the gravity of her situation feel amplified, and Ava shut her eyes again. _Focus. Control your breathing. It's the one thing you have, right now, so keep it together_.

Eyes still closed, Ava listened, straining to detect any sound that might lend a clue to her location. For a moment, she heard nothing but the rushing of her own blood in her ears, her own heartbeat, deafening. After a few seconds, though, she managed to calm herself, at least to the point of adhering to that first Bureau protocol, maintaining presence of mind, and ambient noises began to trickle in.

Wind, outside. _The walls must be thin, that's good, that means if I'm loud, someone will probably hear me._ The gusts sounded strong -_ maybe there's a storm?_

A low background white noise… _a heating system, maybe?_ Ava shivered. Wherever that was, it certainly wasn't in her room. _Maybe a room nearby, then?_ Based on her brief glance around, she could be in a motel room. That was good, too. Motels meant people - other residents, cleaning crews, maintenance. More people meant more witnesses.

Cars. Some distance away, but distinctly present. _Maybe the motel is off a highway? What highway?_ Ava realized she had no way of knowing how far Neron had taken her from her apartment. How long had she been unconscious? First chance she had, she resolved to find a window and estimate the time.

A buzzing sound, relatively constant. _Lights_, she surmised, probably from lamps in the room. She knew that the majority of the population - unlike herself - was not fluent in Morse code, but most people at least knew how to recognize an SOS if they saw it. _If something happens and I can't scream, I could use the lights to signal for help._

Ava tried not to think of things that could happen to prevent her from screaming.

Having gathered as much information as she could blind, and having successfully calmed herself - as much as was possible, in this situation - by creating some tiny semblance of order to her mind as she catalogued her perceptions, Ava again slowly opened her eyes.

Her hands hung from their restraints on the radiator. _That's why my fingers are so cold - I wonder how long their circulation has been restricted like this?_ She resisted the urge to shift her position, curl her hands into fists, get the blood flowing again. She'd gone this long without moving, without indicating she was awake - might as well push on a little longer, see what else she could learn.

The radiator was against the back wall, which meant that Ava was facing the whole of the room. She filed away observations quickly, methodically. _I am a trained agent, after all. Time to put it to good use_.

_Door, directly ahead. Peep-hole. Window to the right of the door, blinds closed, unimpressive beige curtains drawn._ Her eyes flicked left: wooden dresser, television on top of it. _Another door, no peep-hole. Bathroom?_ The floor was carpeted, and it looked a little worse for wear, felt cheap. Beside Ava was a tiny desk, along with a wooden chair. The desk was covered in papers, but from her position, she couldn't tell what was written on them. Her eyes caught on something - there, and then something else, there. She new how to recognize them now, the symbols, runes, like the ones Neron had etched into the doors and walls and windows of her apartment. Her chest clenched as she realized he'd done the same here.

_ Okay. That's okay. I can work with this. I've already seen that the runes can be wiped away, so that's just what I'll have to do here._ It would add several valuable seconds to any escape attempt, but at least she could plan for it.

Ava's eyes flicked right and her breath hitched, adrenaline spiking.

There was a bed - and it wasn't empty.

A man lay atop the covers, fully clothed, on his back, head propped up a little bit on a pillow, eyes closed, hands clasped together and resting on his chest. _Like a corpse in a casket,_ Ava's mind supplied for her, unbidden.

Despite the low vantage point, her angle of sight left no room for doubt. The man in the bed was Neron… and he appeared to be asleep.

Ava wanted to sigh with relief, but she suppressed the urge, instead casting her gaze once more around the room, this time explicitly searching for something, anything to use as a weapon.

_Of course, I'd have to get out of these chains first._ And Ava had no idea how to go about that, considering the keys were nowhere in her field of vision.

_ I have to try _something_. I have no idea how long this window will last._ Ava cast another nervous glance over at Neron -

Her stomach felt like it dropped six stories.

The demon's eyes were open, and he was staring directly at her.

As she watched, and she saw her eye contact register to him, his features slowly twisted into a grin. It was a Cheshire smile. Ava shivered again, and this time, it wasn't from the cold.

"Morning," said Neron after a long pause, and Ava drew in a deep breath. Here we go.

_Whatever this is, it starts now._

Neron sat up in the bed, but instead of rising, he just readjusted the pillows behind him so he could sit more upright. Then he leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head, crossing one leg over the other, and addressed her.

"What did you gather, in your nine minutes of surveillance?" he mused, and Ava eyed him warily. She was mildly taken aback, but she did her best to mask it. She shifted her arms, got some blood flowing to her hands again. It seemed that Neron had no intention of waiting for an answer, however; he simply continued on, as if he hadn't posed a question.

"You're wondering how I knew that you were awake." Neron hadn't missed the surprise flit across Ava's features. "Your breathing pattern changed. Sure, you re-regulated it to a passable imitation of sleep - pretty impressive presence of mind, nice work there, Director - " Neron tipped an imaginary hat in her direction, then pressed on, "But nobody can control their body's natural reaction to waking from unconsciousness. There's always an audible shift, and I happen to be rather practiced at detecting it."

"You're an experienced kidnapper, then?" Ava cut in, and Neron's smile widened.

"Oh, I wondered if you'd be the type to turn to dark humor in a time of crisis. Makes it more entertaining, in my opinion." His teeth flashed. "Well see how long it lasts."

_Nice job dodging my question there,_ Ava noted. "Do you bring… guests… here often?" she tried, glancing around the room again before returning her gaze to the demon on the bed. "It's a little lacking in the hospitality department - "

"Hospitality isn't the point," Neron interrupted her, more forcefully than she'd expected, and she fell silent. His smile lessened a bit, and Ava wasn't sure she liked what remained any better. Malice. Mixed with - amusement?

_He's actually enjoying this._ Her stomach squirmed.

"This isn't a courtship, Director Sharpe. We're not here so I can _entice_ you into becoming a vessel for Tabitha." Neron shrugged and brought his hands down, clasped them again and rested them on his torso. "I already asked - rather politely - and as I recall, you vehemently declined. Now, unless you've had a change of heart…" Neron raised his eyebrows, pausing.

Ava stayed determinedly silent. Almost involuntarily, her wrists tugged against the restraints, and the metal scraped on the radiator.

"As expected," Neron said. "Unfortunate, for you, but as you can see," he gestured grandly around the room, "I prepared for this." Neron's gaze suddenly focused on Ava, piercing, direct. "You _will_ surrender your body as a vessel," he said, and Ava couldn't help but feel a seed of fear settle inside her at the certainty with which he said those words.

"The sooner you submit, the easier this will be for you," Neron continued. Ava just glared at him. Her toes curled against the cheap carpet.

Neron sighed, but it sounded insincere. There was no real disappointment there, because he wasn't at all surprised. "Well," he said, sitting up and stepping off the side of the bed so quickly that Ava flinched at the sudden movement, "I suppose we'd better get started."

Ava's muscles tensed, bracing herself. What could she do from here? _Kick at him?_ It would almost seem pathetic, if it wasn't her only option, so Ava prepared herself.

However, instead of rushing towards Ava, Neron calmly crossed the room to the dresser, opened a drawer, and pulled out a small pile of clothes. Very small. Just two garments. He casually tossed them in her direction, and they landed beside her. A second later, a small silver key landed on top of them. Ava looked back up at the Demon, who stood in the center of the room expectantly.

"Unlock the restraints and change," he commanded. Ava glanced between her bound wrists and the key on the floor.

"How am I supposed to do that?" she asked, pulling on her chain for emphasis.

"Use your toes to pick up the key," he replied, unfazed. Ava exhaled in frustration. If he would come close, she'd have the chance - minuscule, but still present - of trying to incapacitate him while he unlocked her cuffs, maybe use the chain to choke him, then run. Instead, it seemed the demon had no intention of getting near her, at least at the moment.

It took her a few tries, but Ava managed to grip the key between her toes and maneuver her leg up so her fingers could grasp it. After a few seconds of fidgeting with the key, the manacle around one wrist loosened, and she slipped herself free. She did the same with the other, then stood slowly, rubbing her wrists. The skin was red and irritated, but not bleeding, which told Ava she couldn't have been in them for more than a few hours.

Ava stood beside the radiator, back nearly against the wall, facing Neron square-on. There was about eight feet of distance between them, and behind him, about a similar distance away, was the door. The door to outside. _Freedom._ Ava suspected, however, that not only would any attempt to fight her way past him be subdued rather quickly, what with the demon's demonstrated superhuman strength, she wouldn't be able to open the door right away even if she could get to it, due to the rune etched below the doorknob.

"Finished deciding against an escape attempt?" Neron said flatly, crossing his arms, and Ava snapped her attention back to him. He jerked his chin towards the clothes on the floor. "Put them on."

Ava clenched her jaw and picked them up. She straightened up again, and Neron watched her examine them.

A white tank top and white underwear. Recognition hit her a second later.

"These are mine," Ava stated, and Neron confirmed it.

"I took the liberty of removing them from your wardrobe before I left your apartment."

It felt like an intrusion, a step further than breaking into her home and taking her here, as if that wasn't enough. It felt personal.

"There's hardly anything here," Ava said.

"Astute observation."

She gripped the clothes in her fist and let her arm fall to her side. "I guess you like white, then?"

"It's not about what I like. I must take every factor into account when preparing your body for Tabitha's arrival, including your attire. Some colors interfere with magic in unexpected ways. White is neutral, and eliminates that uncertainty." Neron spoke like he was giving a lecture to a student, without flowery language, very matter-of-fact.

_ It's all very informative, but that doesn't change what he's actually saying_.

"I'm not wearing this." Ava dropped the clothes to the floor. They landed on one of her feet. Neron didn't look down.

"You can keep your bra on," Neron said, as though it were an offer to sweeten a deal. Ava shook her head, and something hardened behind his eyes. _Impatience_.

"Either you take your clothes off and change into what I've given you," he said, "Or I take your clothes off and you wear nothing."

Ava's stomach did a somersault. His tone was firm, and the choice was stark. Ava had no doubt that he meant what he said, and it was this fact that led her to pick up the clothes from the floor. After a second of hesitation, she moved towards the door to her left, which she assumed was a bathroom.

"No," Neron said, and she stopped. "You change here."

Ava turned, studied him. He terrified her, sure, was stronger and faster and clearly intended to do her harm, but she hadn't detected any overt sexual threat. _At least not yet._ Was it time to readjust those concerns?

When Neron didn't say anything else, Ava spoke up. "If it's all the same to you, I'd appreciate a little privacy," she said, trying to sound more authoritative than she felt.

"It's not all the same to me. Letting you out of my sight while you're unrestrained is just asking for you to come up with an escape attempt, and honestly, I'm not in the mood. I'm in control here, Director Sharpe," Neron said, "But believe me, I haven't underestimated who I have here. You didn't get to your position at the Bureau by accident. You're highly trained, highly skilled, excellent at situational analysis, effective at improvisation." He ticked each comment off his fingers like bullet points on a list. "In short," Neron said, closing his fist and dropping it to his side, looking her in the eyes, "You're dangerous, and I'm not taking any chances. Now, I'm not going to ask again. Change. Fold your current attire and place it on the bed."

Ava was out of options, and out of time. _Might as well get it over with._ Gritting her teeth, she didn't waste any more time. Layer by layer, she undressed, folding her blazer and laying it on the bed, followed by her black shirt. She slipped on the white tank top, then unbuttoned her black pants, only hesitating another second before stepping out of those as well. On the last item, though, she froze.

"You're worried about sexual assault," Neron said, and Ava spun back to him. He hadn't moved from his stance in the center of the room. Her eyes narrowed, and Neron continued. "It would be time consuming, and not productive for the task at hand, preparing you to be a vessel for Tabitha. Trust me, Director, you will have a lot to be afraid of in the coming days, and we will certainly get to know each other much more closely - just not in _that_ particular way, so if that's the cause of your hesitation, please shelve the concern and continue, I'm rather tired of how this has become so drawn out."

There was some relief in what he said, but his words also did nothing to assuage Ava's other apprehensions regarding what was in store for her. _The coming days?_ Ava realized she had no idea how long this 'process' was supposed to take. _How long can I hold out? And against what?_ Even that, she wasn't prepared for. She had no idea what was coming, and that was just as terrifying as any torture she could be presented with, if not more so.

Ava swallowed and finished changing quickly, tugging down her underwear and stepping into the white, shorts-like, boy-cut ones he'd taken from her drawer at home. When she was done, she faced him, arms automatically crossing in front of her, an instinctive attempt to put some kind of barrier between herself and the threat. Her hands splayed over her upper arms as goosebumps rose on her flesh. It really was cold in here. Despite herself, she felt vulnerable, dressed like this, and she hated it, hated that it had this effect on her. Neron nodded in approval when she was done.

"Right then," he said, like they were in a business meeting and it was time to move on to another proposal. "The chair there. Put it in the center of the room, right here." He gestured towards the wooden chair in the corner, then indicated the spot where he stood, stepping away and several feet back.

_I don't like where this is going_, Ava thought, but she saw no other options, no moments of weakness that she might exploit to slip through his defenses and escape, so she obeyed. The chair was heavier than she expected, more sturdy, and it made a finite-sounding thud as she set it in the center of a square green rug laid in the center of the room overtop the layer of carpet that covered the rest of the floor.

"Excellent," Neron said with a clap, and Ava flinched at the loud crack of sound. She knew what was coming, but still cringed inside when she heard it.

"Now sit in the chair, and place your arm on the armrests."

_ Like hell. _

It wasn't a plan, it wasn't much more than a wild impulse, but Ava poured every bit of energy she had into it. She launched herself not towards the door, not towards Neron, but towards the back of the room. Vaulting over the bed, she dove for a lamp on the night table. She gripped its base with one hand and ripped off the lampshade with the other, tearing the cord away from the wall. She swung the apparatus - light-bulb-end first - towards the back window beside the radiator.

Though the blinds were drawn, an ordinary window would have shuddered with the ferocity of the assault. Reinforced as it was by magic, the swing had no effect on the glass - but then, Ava hadn't really expected any different. It wasn't the window's glass she was targeting.

The lightbulb shattered, and Ava closed her eyes briefly as the shards flew in all directions. Her cheek stung as one grazed her, but it barely registered, such was the overwhelming power of her adrenaline. The room was a little darker now, the only light coming from lamps on the other side of the room. Feet firmly planted on the ground, she spun as fast as she could and again swung the lamp at the imposing form that was nearly upon her.

A blunt object might not have even slowed him down; Ava wasn't entirely sure as to the limits or extents of Neron's supernatural physicality. The jagged edges of the light bulb that remained on the end of her makeshift weapon, however, did give him reason to pause.

_Slam_. Her instincts and aim were good, and Ava was rewarded for her efforts by a grunt from Neron as his trajectory shifted and he careened past her, shoulder slamming against the window, making the blinds rattle. _Slash._ She swung again, wielding the lamp like a sword, and the glass shards slashed his back, ripped through the fabric of his shirt. Neron arched his back, and red bloomed where his shirt had torn.

_ He bleeds like a human. Maybe he can die like one_.

Neron twisted to face her and Ava stabbed forward again, and this time she caught him by his ribs as his arm lifted. Neron yelled in pain and she took advantage of it, adjusting her grip on the lamp and taking up its dangling cord in her left hand. Ava leapt one foot onto the bed and used it as a springboard to launch herself at the demon while he was distracted.

She landed on his back, and she quickly encircled his neck with the cord, wrapping it two, three times around, then twisting the free end around the spot where it joined the wooden body of the lamp. Neron was stumbling, grasping at his neck, and Ava - about two inches taller than him, even barefoot - regained her footing. She wrenched the lamp to the side, turning it counterclockwise, letting the physics of the motion tighten the cord around Neron's neck faster and with more force than she would ever be able to muster on her own.

_ Twist._ His fingers clawed at the cord, but they couldn't gain traction. His body lurched, and she stepped with him, not letting him get away.

_ Twist._ The motions seemed more frantic now, his wheezing higher pitched, more desperate. I have to be getting close. _Come on, a little more…_

Neron stumbled back and Ava's hip slammed into the dresser, sending a stabbing pain through her side. They'd crossed the room in the frenzy, and the television on top of the dresser swayed in its stand.

"Come on, you son of a bitch - " Ava grunted, feeling her muscles start to strain with her efforts. Arms, don't fail me now, Ava commanded herself, willing her body to push through this. There was so much at stake. _Everything is at stake._ Neron's body bucked, and she slammed into the dresser again.

Ava could feel him losing strength, feel his scrambles to free himself from the cord grow more feeble, feel the attempts to breathe continue to fail, and his body start to feel the toll. She was winning - until, quite suddenly, she wasn't.

In a coordinated motion, Neron both doubled over and shot his hand up and back. He entangled his fingers in her hair, taking hold by the roots, and pulled. Ava flipped over his shoulder, pain shooting through her skull. She kicked out and heard a crash as the television fell to the floor and the screen shattered.

She landed on her back, wind knocked out of her, and didn't have a chance to get her bearings before a crushing blow slammed into her side and her body folded in on itself, curling away from the attack. _Slam,_ another impact, this one to her back, her spine, and she gasped at the pain. He was kicking her, rearing his boot away from her writhing body, then driving it forward again. _Ribs. Stomach. Legs._ She heard a sickening crunching noise, accompanied by what felt like a dozen wasps stinging her back. Glass from the broken television, she registered dimly through the haze. It cut into her as she rolled on the floor, trying to get herself away, get herself to anywhere but here.

Ava cried out as he gripped her hair again, yanking her up off the ground, only to grab her shoulder and slam her back down. The impact made stars swim across her vision, and her stomach heaved, but nothing came up. A punch came out of nowhere and her head slammed to the side. She tasted blood. Another kick landed to her abdomen, and a strangled sob escaped her throat.

Suddenly, Ava left the ground: she was being lifted, picked up like she weighed nothing. She was thrown into the wooden chair, which Neron dragged from where it had apparently fallen in the chaos and re-set in the center of the room. Ava continued to struggle, thrashing about, kicking, punching, clawing. Her nails raked along the side of his face, down his neck, and he hissed in pain and hit her again. Her head snapped to the right and she felt a throbbing by her eye. _That's going to swell_.

Neron had grabbed a rope from under the bed and was now using it to secure her to the chair. He started with her wrists, and try as she might, she could not twist away from him. He didn't speak as he worked, just pulled the ropes tight, the friction tearing at her skin. She kicked out and made contact directly with his injured side, the one she'd cut with the lamp, and he grunted, then proceeded to bind her ankles to the chair legs, knees spread apart as he secured first one leg, then the other. Then he stood and wrapped the rope around her abdomen, forcing her posture upright as he secured her to the back of the chair.

Ava felt dizzy, every one of her new injuries screaming out for her attention, and when she inhaled sharply, the breath was ragged with exhaustion and hurt. Neron stood behind her, and she heard him speak a few sentences in a tongue she did not recognize, but whose words ground against her ears and felt like they made her bones rattle. When he finished speaking, Ava realized that the ropes had seemingly been locked in place; no matter now hard she pulled, or how much she struggled, they wouldn't budge. She was effectively immobilized.

There was a distant ringing in Ava's ears, and when she blinked, the world tilted on its side before righting itself again. Neron stepped to the side of the chair and grabbed her face in his hand, tilting it up, forcing her to look at him.

His breathing was as ragged as hers; there was a small cut over his left eye, a gash on his arm, another on his side. Despite the dire situation, Ava felt a dash of pride at the damage she'd managed to cause.

"I hope," Neron said between heavy breaths, "That you got it all out of your system, because I will not indulge any more of this behavior moving forward."

The words, the weird formal cadence to them, chilled Ava to the core. _Indulge? He let me do this, he let this happen?_

Neron let go of her face, but she didn't dare look away from him. As she watched, he crossed the room in front of her and bent to pick something up off the floor. It was her shirt, the one she'd folded and put on the bed; it must have fallen. He didn't break eye contact with her as she snatched it up and used it to wipe away the blood and sweat dripping from his brow, then to clean his wounded arm, and neck where she'd scratched him. Then he crumpled the fabric into a ball and threw it down.

"I'm actually a bit impressed," he said when he was done. His chest rose and fell at a more regular rate, now, as some of the adrenaline faded. "I expected resistance, I thought I was ready for it, but you - " He shook his head. "You had me going there, for a minute. Kudos," he said without a trace of humor in his voice. "Not many can claim such success."

_Success._ Ava would have laughed at the absurdity of it, if the action of laughter didn't carry with it the promise of intense pain. She was sitting, now, with no way to escape the injuries she had just sustained. There was no part of her body that didn't ache, sting, burn, throb. A wave of dizziness swept over her, and her vision blurred for a moment before coming back into focus.

When it did, Neron was kneeling with his back towards her, bent over something he'd pulled out from under the bed. A suitcase, open. Ava braced herself as he rummaged through its contents. What was it going to be? A blowtorch? A butcher knife? A cattle prod? She wished her mind would stop spiraling down this guessing game, but she couldn't help it, and new potential horrors rose unbidden to the forefront of her mind.

She couldn't help it. She was scared.

_ Think of something else_. Anything else.

_ So that's the state I'm at,_ Ava noted absently. _So much for adhering to Bureau protocols. Avoid angering the enemy or provoking violence - that sure worked out well._

_ Sara_. She pictured the woman, the warrior, crashing through the door, throwing a knife with an assassin's accuracy at Neron's heart, then ripping off the ropes that bound her and spiriting her to safety. It was a fantasy, wishful thinking, but Ava clung to it. _She'll come for me. Sara will come._

"She's not going to find you, sweetheart," said Neron, and Ava's consciousness crashed back to the present, and she realized she'd uttered Sara's name aloud.

"You don't know her," said Ava, her voice sounding hoarse to her ears. _She'll come_.

"I know enough. Last time you were together, you had quite the fight. Maybe she's angry with you, maybe she thinks you need space, maybe it's some of both," Neron said, rising from where he knelt and turning to face her, "But either way, Sara Lance is not coming to your rescue."

Whatever hope Ava had allowed to blossom inside her withered as his words sunk in. He's right, she thought, an overwhelming wave of helplessness threatening to drown her. _She's angry, we were both angry, and now she's gone, she doesn't know, she has no way of knowing -_

Neron raised his arm from his side, and Ava focused on what he held, what he had taken from the suitcase.

It wasn't a weapon.

It was the snickerdoodles. _The fucking snickerdoodles_.

"I brought these along as a reminder," Neron said. "Of how you left things with Sara, of how nobody is coming for you. How you're alone." Each statement echoed in her mind. _Don't let it get to you. The Legends will come looking, the Bureau will notice I'm gone -_

Except, she was on a two-week leave of absence, per Hank's orders.

Neron seemed to sense when it hit her, when the full, suffocating weight of her predicament slammed down. He nodded, more to himself than to her, and pulled something else out of the suitcase, setting the tupperware of snickerdoodles aside on the bed.

This time he emerged with the knife she had been expecting, a wicked-looking blade with runes that appeared to move, or at least quiver slightly, engraved on the handle. He crossed the room, and Ava watched him as long as she could, until he passed beside her, and she heard him kneel behind the chair. A hand touched her right shoulder and she flinched. He pushed the strap of the tank top off her shoulder and tugged the fabric back, exposing the skin at the slope of her neck, behind her right shoulder. Even this minor movement stung, probably from the accumulation of minor scrapes and piercings of skin on account of the glass shards.

Tears stung Ava's eyes; she tried to blink them away, but more rose in their place, spilling over and running slowly down her cheeks. She drew a breath in quickly; the exhale was slow and shaky. _Don't hyperventilate. Keep it together._ She felt pressure on the back of her shoulder, something sharp pressing against her skin, and she clenched her fists.

"Will you willingly offer your body as a vessel?" Neron asked quietly, his voice low and close, directly into her ear. Ava swallowed.

_ I can get through this. _

She started to shake her head, not trusting herself to speak, and he began before she'd moved more than an inch, knife digging into flesh, carving into her, the pain searing and blinding and immediate and continuous. She wanted to pass out, felt the temporary bliss of unconsciousness dancing at the edge of her vision and she called to it, grasped at it as he shifted positions and the burning ceased, only to start anew a heartbeat later. Her knuckles where white as she gripped the armrests, every muscle in her body straining, straining through the pain, but there was no escape, and why couldn't she pass out? She was dizzy, head spinning, she felt like she was going to be sick, and still, still unconsciousness didn't come, and she _didn't understand_ why oblivion wasn't saving her from this -

A heartbeat could have passed, or maybe an eternity, a minute, a year - she didn't know, she didn't care - but at some point, Ava Sharpe heard a horrifying sound, like an animal dying, like a train screeching desperately for traction on iced-over tracks, and she realized that she had begun to scream.


End file.
